Avouch of Mine Own Eyes
by Sir Gimp of Baath
Summary: A prince from a foreign land finds his way into Hyrule on the eve of disaster, and Shakespeare rolls in his grave. HamletxZelda
1. Arrival

Before you read this story, you should probably be familiar with William Shakespeare's magnum opus, _Hamlet._ Read it if you haven't. It's a hell of a lot better than anything I could ever write. This story draws on it _ very_ heavily.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything about Zelda, and I damn well don't own Hamlet either.

* * *

_I have to give Claudius at least a little credit,_ thought Hamlet, Prince of Denmark, as he lay dying. _This poison is mercifully painless._

He opened his eyes to see the face of his oldest friend and confidante, Horatio. He had very feminine features, something that Hamlet used to light-heartedly tease him about. When they were both about seventeen, the teasing stopped (or at least became much lighter-hearted) when Horatio confessed to him, teary-eyed, that he did indeed prefer the company of men. Hamlet, a true friend, did not judge, did not recoil. He just clapped Horatio on the shoulder and gave him a word of encouragement.

Horatio's green eyes were filled with tears now, too. Hamlet did not know how long he had been lying there, or how long Horatio had been kneeling over him. He realized it did not matter, and found the strength to speak. "Horatio… my friend… who's still alive?"

"Just us, my lord…" Hamlet knew that Horatio was too much of an optimist to say 'just me'.

Hamlet nodded. "Horatio…I need you to tell my story, however painful it may be… Consider it my last request." He felt his mind slipping away as he spoke.

Horatio just swallowed and closed his eyes in acceptance of the task. Hamlet wanted to speak again, to bid him farewell, but his jaw was already locked shut. His final thought before going into the dark cloud was that he was dying in the same way his father did, and he was glad at that.

Hamlet's consciousness slipped away…

…and then returned.

He sighed inwardly and wished that he would just die already. He waited, but felt no more strength drained from him. Actually, he felt like that very strength was flowing back into him. "Oh," he said. "I understand now. I've gone to hell."

Shocked that he could speak, he snapped his eyes open. At first, he didn't really comprehend what he perceived--a swirl of pale blue and brown and white. When he finally realized he was looking at an evil, ominous sky, he sat up.

He was lying on a dirt trail in the middle of a large valley. He was a stones' throw from a curved stone wall, a sign of life in this dreary landscape.

He turned his head and realized that he really was in Hell. The tallest mountain within sight was ringed by an unnatural black cloud. Near it, on the horizon, he could see a castle. Not a castle like his beloved Elsinore, tall and gleaming and inviting. No, this castle was obviously designed to make people not want to live anywhere near it. Hamlet was completely and totally certain that this was Satan's citadel, and yet he was inexplicably drawn toward it.

He got to his feet, no longer surprised at the lack of the poison's effects, and walked cautiously towards the dark silhouette. It was not a long walk, but the dark cathedral rising up before him made it seem like an epic journey. He passed a signpost in a language he did not recognize, and came to a wrecked drawbridge.

_I have nothing better to do,_ he thought. For the first time, he noticed that he wore everything he had been wearing when he died, including his sword. He pulled it out of its scabbard and held it out before him, more for psychological security than any sort of real protection. He didn't even know if he could kill the horrors that awaited him. _Maybe,_ he thought dryly, _if I kill them they'll just end up back here._

As he forded the moat over the remains of the shattered bridge, he wondered idly who he knew was here and who he might meet. Claudius for sure; even if he had stayed Hamlet's blade by praying once, Hamlet was sure that God would not have let the home-wrecking king's crimes go unpunished.

The water was easily waded through. Hamlet stepped up onto the path and smelled the characteristic scent of decay clinging to the air. An ill wind blew from the mountain; from here, Hamlet could see that it was a volcano, like the ones he had read about from the old Latin texts. The stinging reek of sulfur only served to reinforce his certainty that this was Hell.

The path that came off of the drawbridge was narrow, with crumbling stone walls on either side. It shortly opened up into what looked like it must once have been a thriving market, complete with a dried-up fountain and the disintegrating husks of buildings. The castle was on the other side of the square from here, but Hamlet briefly stopped his purposeful march to look around and was horrified by what he saw.

Out of the burned-out husks of buildings came a throng of…creatures. They were shaped like men, but had faces like hollowed and carved gourds. Their heads were empty- he could see the insides of the backs of heir heads through the hole where their eyes were supposed to be.

He rushed to get away from them, towards the monolithic tower ahead. The cobblestones, however, were rough and uneven, and the prince fell flat on his face. By the time he gathered himself to once again attempt an escape, the things were already upon him. One of them screamed, and the world went dark.

* * *

Zelda, former Princess of Hyrule and present freedom fighter, lit another torch in the underground bunker that the resistance had made into its headquarters. She had fallen far from her previous standing in the past seven years; while she once wore elegant dresses, she now wore a functional (but comfortable) armored leather tunic. Ever since the supposed Hero of Time had been killed by Ganon in the Temple of Time all those years ago, Zelda had been training her own skills with the blade and building a devoted contingent of fighters of all races. In the flickering torchlight, she saw Hylians, humans, Gorons, and even a few Zoras. 

One of the people in the room, though, she wasn't quite sure of. As a princess, she had dealt with people from all parts of the world in a diplomatic sense, but she had never seen a human as aristocratic as this. He was unconscious on a table, but even there his brow had a defiant arch to it, and his face, paralyzed by the re-deads, held a more noble and stoic sort of fear than one might expect. His robes were made of fine silk, a material she had not seen since Ganondorf came to power. All in all, his presence was a puzzle to her, one that she intended to unravel as soon as he woke up.

As she had been doing for the past hour that he was in this chamber, she nudged him on the shoulder. This time, he actually stirred a bit, and then seemed to realize he was no longer under the effects of the re-dead's paralyzing scream. His eyes fluttered open. "Wh…wehre ammn I?" he slurred groggily.

Zelda put on her best calming voice, another talent she had picked up in dealing with ambassadors. "You're safe, that's all you needed to know for now." She kept it at that, in case he was some sort of an agent of Ganon's.

The well-dressed man sat up stiffly. Zelda could actually hear his joints creaking, and realized that if the re-deads had really affected him this badly, it must be his first run-in with them. He worked his jaw around a bit, popping and cracking it before he spoke again. "I am Prince Hamlet of Denmark," he said. "And I'm dead. You, madam, are you a demon?"

Zelda had to stifle a laugh. She tried to stay humble about it, but she did know her own beauty; she had no idea what would possess this man to think she were a fiend like… well, like Ganon. Then she realized something odd. "You speak Hylian!"

He blinked. "I speak Greek, and Latin, and of course Danish, but… I don't believe any of my teachers at the university ever mentioned a language called Hylian, I'm sorry."

"But...you're speaking it right now." _Poor thing. He must be completely addled,_ she thought. "What kingdom are you from that you speak…" she tried to mimic his words, "Grick and Lateen?"

They stared at each other incredulously for a bit. Zelda had no doubt now that he was a prince. He looked like one, he acted like one. He looked to be about the same age as she was (even though her father used to always tell her that she had always existed—pfft!) but he carried himself like an old man who had seen too much trouble and intrigue. Being royalty herself, Zelda completely understood how that was.

One of the Zora healers in the bunker broke the silence by abruptly walking into the room. He grabbed the prince's leg in one flippered hand and began to work it up and down. Each time, it moved an imperceptible bit more, and the paralysis dissolved slowly.

Zelda was getting desperate, and she jumped at the opportunity that sat before her. "Prince Hamlet… Will you please join our freedom fighters? We need another educated planner to lead the charge on Ganon's castle in seven days. With your help, it might not be a suicide mission." Her voice was both rational and impassioned, another skill she had learned, not as a princess but as a guerilla.

Hamlet did not even hesitate, and raised one arm melodramatically. "My father was killed and deposed by a tyrant. I already toppled him, but I'd give my life, if such a thing is even possible in Hell, to remove another from his ill-gotten throne!"

Zelda put her head in her hands, exasperated. "I told you. You're NOT in Hell."

* * *

That's it for the short introduction. The entire story is already written out, I just don't know how to break it up into chapters yet... Regardless of that, review if you liked it, or if you didn't, or if you just have something to say. Part Two should be posted shortly. 

-Sir Gimp


	2. Swordplay

For some reason, my first chapter isn't showing up at all. I'm hoping that posting this here second chapter will fix the problem.

It's almost twice as long as the first one, w00t. More action, more angst, and the beginnings of romance. Enjoy!

* * *

Hamlet drew his blade and circled his opponent. The royal sword of the Danes had been at his side ever since he landed in the middle of Hyrule Field four days ago, and he found it a wonderful sparring weapon in his daily sword-fighting training.

His opponent, the surprisingly deadly Zelda, carried a blade of a sort he had never seen before. It had the odd collection of three triangles that seemed to adorn everything in this peculiar country, and the blade itself was notched on both sides right above the hilt. He raised the wire-cage visor that hid his face and asked, "What kind of a sword is that? It's not the one you usually use."

"It's a replica of the Master Sword, the sword in the Temple of Time, which the hero Link wielded before he was killed." She hefted it. "It has sentimental value for me because of him."

Hamlet leapt in, thrust his jewel-encrusted but still entirely functional blade at her armor. She deftly parried it, and counterattacked. He blocked with the grooved flat of his blade, flung her sword back, and leapt away again.

"If it's not too touchy of a subject to ask, were you and he…close?"

Zelda lifted her own facemask. "We were, although we only met a couple of times. He was a sweet kid, and a hell of a swordfighter. I sent him out to open the Door of Time, and he…" She sighed. "Yes, I've told you this story before."

With barely a pause after she said this, she snapped her visor back down and leapt at her erstwhile rival. She was too fast for him, and her ornamental sword prodded his armor right above the heart.

"O, I am slain!" He fell to the ground in a mockery of death. He thought that he was fairly convincing—after all, he had died before—but the ex-princess simply laughed and pulled him to his feet. Her eyes sparkled with some of the first true happiness he had seen out of her. "Looks like I win," she said, and winked.

Her laugh, rare as it was, was contagious; he found that he couldn't help himself. They chuckled together for a short while, and then picked up the gear that they had left in the abandoned courtyard and walked in pleasant silence back to the tunnel that led to the rebel base. The bubbling of the river that framed the small area of the field faded away as they descended into the roughly hewn stone.

The tunnel was dark and musty. It had been made back in the times of the First Kingdom of Hyrule, according to Zelda. It had gained quite a few branches in the past seven years as it became a rebel haven. Of course, it lost branches as soon as Ganon's forces found them, but the many friendly Gorons who were still left helped keep the secret network functional.

They reached the main headquarters below the ruins of Hyrule Town in practically no time. Hamlet knew his way around the sparsely decorated and dimly lit barracks now, and he headed towards the mess hall, following the helpful signs in a completely incomprehensible language.

The mess hall relied heavily on magic to produce the food, as Hyrule had pretty much always done. The kingdom had never had vast expanses of farmland, instead trusting in the providence of the goddesses' magic for sustenance. A heavily modified version of this ancient system was used here to grow dense food crops without sunlight, and most of the livestock farmers were sympathetic to the cause. Because it wasn't too strictly rationed, and because the cooks drew from Hyrule's ancient culinary traditions, the food was hearty, if not particularly refined. If anything, it was a break from the rich and extravagant fare that he had eaten all of his life.

The hall itself looked more like a tavern than anything else. The wall was ringed with torches shining their guttering light on a disarray of wooden tables and chairs. Rebels sat, ate, and talked, but the atmosphere was much less raucous than the average tavern—thanks to the hall's wise decision not to serve alcohol. Although Hamlet had wished for a good stiff brandy many times in his short time here, he was glad that some of the ruffians that made up the rebellion had no easy access to liquor.

He pulled out a chair at an empty table and sat. He was here more to rest his legs than anything; although he was hungry, he had no desire to go stand in line to get his food, preferring to wait for a time when few people chose to eat. In a few seconds Zelda came in behind him and sat beside him. "That was a good round today," she said.

Hamlet looked away, distracted by the thoughts that flitted through her head whenever the beautiful rebel leader was near him. "Mm. I suppose so."

Zelda started to say something, then stopped. When she finally did speak, her voice held a note of tender concern. "Is something wrong?"

"The attack is so soon. It's worrying me," he half-lied. The truth was that he was more worried by matters of his own heart than going out and fighting. Fighting was easy. Dealing with his heart forgetting his beloved Ophelia so quickly for this other, much different woman…that—that was difficult.

He didn't know if Zelda picked up on his true motivations or not, but she played along anyway. "It'll be fine. We have escape routes if things go wrong. I'm determined not to make this a suicide attack." The sincerity in her voice caused him to look at her again and get lost in her eyes. She looked back at him with the same interest, her eyes gently piercing into his mind, until the moment was broken by a klaxon sounding in the complex.

Zelda popped out of her seat, grabbed the startled prince's hand, and dragged him out of the room along with a tide of other fighters. Hamlet could hear cries of "They found the tunnel! They found the tunnel!" in the background as his mind tried to process all of what was going on. The klaxon got louder as Zelda silently manhandled him through the crowd to the main control room, or the "bridge" as she called it.

Hamlet could hear heavy metal doors clanging shut all around him. The nerve center was now isolated from the rest of the complex. Rebel soldiers all around the perimeter of the circular room had their ears to hearing-tubes connecting to all parts of the resistance base. They sometimes lifted their heads to shout strange things like "Bogeys on tube 23!" Then some people in the middle of the room would put dots on a large map on a table.

It was all fairly incomprehensible to Hamlet. The last time Denmark had been in a war, he was a little boy and his father did not let him watch the generals planning their great battles. He had no doubt that Fortinbras, a man who actually reminded him much of himself, had already taken over his beloved homeland. For some reason, though, he found himself caring less than he should about the land he came from and wanting more and more to stay here. He knew that it was because of the woman who was still absent-mindedly clutching his wrist, but he knew that if SHE asked why he preferred to stay, he would need to come up with a batter answer.

She had taken instant command of the room the moment she walked in, and smoothly shouted orders to all corners. She was one of a rare breed of people who could sound very genial even when barking out commands, and because of this, her orders were followed without question.

Now that the instant adrenaline rush had left him, the emotions that he had been grappling with before came back in full force. The fact that Zelda still clutched his hand without realizing it didn't help matters, either. He looked at her, resplendent in her leather armor, and sighed.

She finished ordering people around, and looked at him quizzically. "Are you okay? Did I hurt your arm dragging you around?" She let go of him.

"No, no, I'm fine, it's just…" He sighed again and looked away. "It's nothing."

She stared at him. "You couldn't be much more obvious if you tried, Hamlet. But it's okay. We'll talk about this once the crisis is over, so for the meantime try not to get emotional." She turned away from him and went back to commanding.

Hamlet's head spun. Why did everyone always know what he was angsting about? Even back home he was barely able to plot under Claudius' and Polonius' noses. And now this intriguing and lovely woman was being cold to him simply because he let his feelings get the better of him.

He sat down on the floor and began muttering to himself "Why does this always happen to me? First, my father's killed by his own brother, then I die, and now the second woman I've ever loved is on to me. Why, God, why, why, why?"

"Hey!"

Hamlet looked up, eyes already welling up with tears, and saw Zelda standing there looking uncannily serene. "Do you need help?" she asked. "Why are you talking to yourself?"

He wiped his eyes on his sleeve and stood up, embarrassed that he had let his still-adolescent emotions get the better of his common sense. "Nothing," he said unconvincingly. "I'm just homesick, I guess."

She arched one eyebrow. "I told you not to get all emotional, and now look at you." She grabbed his shoulders and looked him in the eyes, steadying his heart immensely. "I need you to do something for me, Hamlet."

"Yes?" His embarrassment was beginning to show in his cheeks now especially now that she was touching him, and he needed an excuse to quit staring at her.

She pointed to a specific spot on the map, marked with a small red dot and two unfamiliar symbols that he assumed were numerals. "I need your swordfighting skills. You're the best swordsman we have here"—(_besides you, _he thought)—"and this task requires a deft blade. Ganon has set a Stalfos here… it's a sort of skeletal minion of his, but they're painfully good at sparring. If you can hit it in the torso enough times, it's toast."

He nodded, willing every fiber in his body to complete what was laid before him and impress her. "As you command." He drew his sword. He knew where that red dot was—it was the decoy tunnel, an obvious opening to fool Ganon into ignoring the main assault tunnel. Zelda had shown it to him before. So with blade in hand he turned around and took a step towards the door.

He was stopped by a hand on his shoulder. Zelda turned him around and looked at him with concern. "There's no need to be so formal and dramatic. We've known each other for long enough that we can speak as friends." She drew him into a loose embrace, one that was completely platonic but still set his hormones coursing. "Take care of yourself."

He wasn't sure if it was his heart or his body, but that small contact with the woman he so admired set a new course for him and cleared all doubt from his troubled mind. He smiled at her, then turned and walked out the heavy iron door.

He wound his way through the narrow stone corridors, vigilant for any sign of threat. He was surely adept at sparring with another human being, but he had no idea how he would fare against supernatural beasts like he saw in his first dreary hour here…

He shook the thought from his mind as he neared the location of the red dot. It was straight down the corridor from where he was, but his range of vision in the smoke and the dim torchlight was not sufficient to get any more than a glimpse of his foe. Still, the confidence that the princess had given him did not flag a bit, and he charged at the beast.

It was bigger than he thought, at least two men tall and nearly as wide. It obviously wasn't a human skeleton; it looked more like the bones of one of the beasts from the legendary tales he read in university in Wittenberg. Whatever it was, its bones seemed to be held together through sheer force of will, and the armor it wore clanked against them with every movement. Its glittering scimitar looked like it wasn't quite real; more ethereal than material.

It had its back turned, giving the prince one good stab at it before he had to REALLY start fighting. He was pleasantly surprised to find that it was slow to turn around, and he took his time setting himself up for another strike.

Then the Stalfos arced its sword through the air. Hamlet had just barely enough time to duck out of the way before it impacted the ground with a resounding clang. Hamlet realized in dread that the sword had actually embedded itself in the stone. If it had hit him, he would have died instantly.

Fortunately, the thing was so disoriented from its strike that Hamlet felt secure in taking a huge risk. He darted around the thing's left side (because it held its blade in its right) to its back, and jumped up on top of it. It tried to shake him off, but he held firm to a couple of its ribs. They were cold to the touch, and rough. Twisting at them seemed to make the Stalfos mad.

Inside its ribcage there was a dark sphere of energy. He couldn't quite look at it—it shone like the sun in its own dark way. Hamlet stuck his foot through a gap in the ribs, lined it up with the magical core, and gave one hard kick.

He fell immediately as the destroyed titan collapsed. He twisted his leg as he hit the ground amidst the bones, and he was probably covered in bruises. _At least I'm on top of the pile, and not buried under it,_ he thought.

Hamlet got up unsteadily, favoring his damaged leg, and reached for one of the longer bones in the pile to use as a crutch. As soon as his fingers touched it, it turned to ash, as did the rest of the pile, leaving only a fine white powder on the ground where he had slain the skeleton.

He sat down on the floor and felt his leg to make sure nothing was broken. He had only broken a leg once, at Wittenberg riding a horse, and he had had to set it himself. Fortunately, this time the damage was a sprain at the very worst, and while it would be painful to walk on, he could still limp back.

_Back to Zelda._ The words echoed in his mind as if it were an empty cavern. After breaking down in front of her for no reason, letting his emotions completely get the better of him, he wasn't sure if he could face her again, or if she could still respect him. Then again, he had taken down the creature, but…

He was jolted out of his musings by a voice coming from a few feet above his head, yet sounding like it came from a very long way away. "Hamlet? Are you okay?" It was Zelda's voice. The prince remembered her mentioning something about listening tubes. _Apparently,_ he thought, _they go both ways._

He called back. "I'm fine, mostly. I destroyed it, anyway." He got up, braving the pain in his leg, and began to hobble back to the central room.

He didn't get very far before he heard people coming from up ahead of him. Hamlet drew his sword, just in case, but then he saw Zelda, with practically the entire resistance movement at her heels. They were coming to congratulate him, at exactly the time that he just needed to sit and think. He watched them approach, lamenting his own indecision, and decided that he would try to take more action in the future.

His resolve, regrettably, melted away when Zelda hugged him again, a little less chastely than before. "Thank you so much. I'm glad you came here."

"I'm glad I came here too," he muttered distractedly. He would have chosen that time to talk to her, but the other people milling around made that a bit difficult. He grabbed her arm and started pushing his way through the sudden mob. Hamlet realized suddenly that they were a "repair" crew, one sent to seal off this tunnel before Ganon poured more troops down it.

Zelda didn't protest at being dragged around. To Hamlet, it looked as if she had lost the fiery intensity that she had as a commander, and was now lost and alone again. Her eyes still sparkled, but they looked around intently, as if she were afraid of enemies from all corners. Her blonde hair, put up elegantly even in this dirty and militaristic situation, was starting to fall down around her face.

There was not far to go, even crippled as he was. His private room was actually very close to this hall, and Zelda seemed to know where they were headed. In fact, as his leg began to scream with pain, she helped him hobble along. He closed the door and the pair sat down on the bed.

Hamlet tried to speak, but the words would not come, less because he was afraid to speak and more because he wasn't sure how he should say it. After a few stumbled attempts to bare his heart, Zelda stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.

"It's okay," she said. "I know how you feel."

He cocked an eyebrow in disbelief. "You're a psychic now?"

She chuckled lightly at the joke. "No, but I do understand YOU. And I understand that we can't do anything until the raid."

Hamlet, working on instinct, played dumb. "What do you mean, do anything?"

Shaking her head, she moved her hand from his shoulder to his knee. "I think you know what I'm talking about. Now, you need to rest up. The attack on Ganon's castle is in two days." She winked at him as she left. "See you then."

* * *

Hamlet is the angstiest character in English literature, I'm serious. Will Zelda be able to striaghten him out? Only time will tell!

Thanks for continuing to read my exceedingly strange story! Review if you want to.


	3. Assault

The next chapter in my little tale. The plot is rushing along, I know, but I never learned pacing. Story's about halfway done!

* * *

Dawn broke over the tunnel's opening into the ruins of Hyrule Town, obscured by the dark clouds that still clung to the sky. Zelda, poking her head out of the hole where the town fountain used to be, silently cursed the clouds for obscuring the sun. Normally the best time to attack would be during the night, but Ganon's troops were largely nocturnal. Broad daylight made the resistance fighters more visible, but it also made their opponents weaker.

Zelda pulled herself out of the tunnel and checked her armor. She was wearing magically-strengthened leather armor that would stop an arrow or a blade. She had offered the unique armor to any of her soldiers who may have wanted it, but her loyal men had forced her to wear it.

The other soldiers filtered out of the hatch as silently as they could, all of them avoiding any eye contact with the re-deads that still thronged around. Soon, there was her tiny army, standing before her and saluting. Among them was Hamlet, dressed like the rest of the soldiers, standing in rank and file right alongside them.

"All right," she said. "We're among Ganon's troops as it is. Kill these things."

Her terse command was completely understood by her soldiers, who set upon the monstrous re-deads shambling around the plaza, all the time avoiding their hollow eye sockets. Zelda turned around when she heard a scream that wasn't from something undead.

One of her fighters, a noble-looking female Zora named Ruto, was frozen by the paralyzing gaze of the re-dead, sword in mid-strike. The look on her unmoving face was not one of horror, or even fear, but loss. Zelda stood for a moment, trying to figure out why she appeared so heartbroken. Then, confused and ashamed at her delay, Zelda quit trying to read her subordinate and dashed over to kill the creature, which did not even see her approach. Two quick stabs from her sword and the thing fell to the rough cobbles, dissolving into the dark energy that Ganon summoned it from.

Ruto shook herself out, thanked Zelda, saluted, and went off to kill another one. Similar screams issued from other parts of the square. Some of the frozen warriors were helped out by their comrades, and some received Zelda's aid. The battle was short, and without casualties, and that's why she had chosen to fight it. The men and women (and Zoras, and Gorons… just "beings", really) desperately needed a morale boost, and eradicating this many of Ganon's pests in such a short time would give them the confidence they needed.

When it was over, the ragtag army fell in step behind Zelda, not in any exact rank and file but marching in time. The castle was a short walk hence, and there were no guards. Soon, they were at the dilapidated front gates, and that's when and where the resistance movement ended.

As quickly as it had come to the kingdom, doom came to the fighters. They passed through the gates to find themselves flanked on both sides by giant, decapitated hands with gnarled nails and greenish skin. Nobody had time to wonder where they had come from; there was only time to panic. The things swarmed over the bluffs that framed the path, spilling down onto the dirt, pouncing upon the troops. Zelda did not even need to give the order to retreat; her fighters were already rushing back through the gate, fleeing from the additional stampede of hands that came from the direction of the castle. The few brave men and women who struck at them were quickly overwhelmed by the rest of the hands flanking them, so they either fought them as they ran, or they died.

Zelda, having been at the head of the charge, was at the rear of the retreat. The hands were at her back and on all sides, but she used a little bit of her magic to keep her relatively safe. She was now close enough to see that some of her men had set up a garrison around the wreck of the fountain, and she was extremely glad to see people escaping down the hatch.

She passed under the arch, and suddenly there was a pressure on her back and a lightness in her feet. She realized through the haze of blood and adrenaline that one of the hands was lifting her up into the air. She fought, but only until the hand got high enough in the air that falling would have done her more harm. It wasn't trying to squeeze the life out of her, merely carrying her, so she relented and readied her blade and her nerves for the fight that she was sure was coming when her disembodied captor released her.

The trip though the air to Ganon's castle was short. The hand, still gripping her around the midsection, maneuvered her through the front gates and up a series of trap doors in the ceiling. She tried to stab out at a few passing henchthings as she passed by, but she was going too quickly and they seemed to be wary of the floating hands anyway.

Predictably, it dropped her off in a grimy cell without as much as a hole in the floor or a straw bedroll to serve as accommodations. The only distinguishing feature of it was a boarded-over spot where a window used to be. _Far cry from home,_ she thought resignedly as she sat in the corner of the cell.

The sudden realization that this WAS home struck her harder than any disembodied hand or blade could. As her neurons untangled and memories of childhood returned slowly, she remembered the way that the hand had taken her well…Three floors up, right, right, left, in at the third door. This was her bedroom, her only refuge from the pressure of being the Princess, the only place she could go where she didn't feel like every eye in Hyrule was upon her. She remembered the green walls and the wooden furniture—she was a tomboy, and she never liked to let her father forget it. She remembered staying in here for hours, wearing anything she could find that wasn't "proper dress for a Princess", and trying her hardest to forget that the castle was basically a jail cell for her.

Now the space that had been her only sanctuary was now _literally_ a jail cell. Ganon must have been puppetmastering behind the scenes this whole time, specifically waiting for the attack to toss her in this psychological torture chamber. It was definitely something he would do, and it clearly wasn't just a coincidence. He knew all along.

The sudden spirit-crushing revelation exhausted her. She slept, weeping.

* * *

Hamlet awoke to Zelda's concerned face for the second time in a very, very long week. For a few brief seconds, before the majority of his conscious mind had the opportunity to awaken, the sight and sound of her soothed him. Then he started panicking.

The lingering aftereffects of the adrenaline from the fight had remained in his system while he was blacked out, and an entirely new rush was tearing its way into his brain. He sat bolt upright, looked around at the dim decay around him, and faced Zelda with fear-reddened eyes. "Where are we?"

The concerned line of her brow dropped into melancholy as she considered the question. "The castle. My old bedroom."

Hamlet understood Ganon's intentions perfectly, and felt a deeper sympathy for her than he'd ever felt for anyone. "That bastard. But why am I here?"

She shrugged, looking even more lost. "One of those hands must have knocked you out and flown you here. I don't know, I just woke up and you were lying next to me with a bruise on your cheek."

He touched the sore spot gingerly. "Yeah…"

There was nothing else to say. The former prince and the former princess simply sat down and stared at each other, each the only element of familiarity within the other's reach.

What seemed like hours later, Hamlet spoke, his echoing words cutting through the silence and making it bleed meaning. "I'm… I'm glad I came here."

She shook her head. "Why? I can understand your sentiment if you had come seven years ago, but… I feel you weren't far off when you first awoke here and called it Hell. Look at this place. Thanks to Ganon, nobody's happy anymore. Hyrule's only hope screwed up and died right inside the Temple of Time…There's nothing here. Nothing but pain, fear, and sadness."

Hamlet took a deep breath and steadied himself. "And you."

He could already feel himself wanting to withdraw, to retreat back into his shell to plot, and scheme, and ultimately fail to act. Just like he always did, just as he figured he was always going to do. It's what lost his battle with Claudius, and what vanquished him in every struggle with himself. He was sick of waiting, and tired of cutting himself off, so he ploughed right into the middle of it and continued.

"You're here, and that's enough for me. You're so completely unlike any other woman I have ever known. I've loved women before, yes. I loved Ophelia, and I loved her with every fiber of my being…but I've matured since her."

Zelda shook her head. "I know what you're trying to say, and I'm just going to tell you what I was going to tell you after that last time we fenced. We can't."

"Why not?" he pleaded, clutching her hand tighter as if it might dissolve into smoke at any moment. "Is it the hero? Do you think he might still be alive? I understand. He's… everything I'm not. He stood up and did things, without even being told to." He sighed, let go of her hand with a great show of melodramatic reluctance, and lay down, completely defeated and emotionally drained, on the cold hard floor.

Minutes later, Zelda spoke. "Hamlet, don't jump to conclusions like that," she said deliberately. "I don't love him. For Nayru's sake, I only met him when we were children. I mean that we can't because you have to go back home sometime. You don't belong here, and I think the Goddesses know that."

Hamlet didn't bother to get up, which changed the timbre of his voice slightly. "I'll be forced to leave? Fine. I'll come back. I don't care what the Goddesses think of me. The only deity I answer to anymore is you."

"I'm flattered, don't think I'm not. And I like you too. I may even love you," she said analytically. "But you're from a different world. You can't stay here, and there's nothing that you or I or Ganondorf or anyone else can do about it."

"It doesn't matter. I'll find a way around it. I can plan it out. I know I can." Hamlet knew he had no ideas, no plans. Plotting the murder of his bastard usurper stepfather uncle was easy. Manipulating what seemed to be unshakable Destiny and finding his way back into a parallel world was something that he was not sure any amount of planning could bring to fruition.

Zelda shook her head sadly, as though she could see his dearth of inspiration straight through his troubled brow. "No. You can't change the way things have to be. You have to return home, Ganon has to be defeated, I have to end up with Link. Time marches on but fate spins around in its own little circle, and when the two cross paths certain things are inevitable."

"Zelda, I…" Something she said suddenly registered in his brain. "What makes you so sure of the last two?"

She closed her eyes in self-reprimand. "I don't think I was supposed to tell you this, but it doesn't look like it matters anyway. The three of us… Link, Ganon, and I… keep coming up all throughout Hylian history. At least three times that I know of. Every time, Link defeats Ganon, and Zelda marries Link. I don't know what happens now that the cycle has been broken."

"Maybe it was supposed to break." He sat upright, a new hope in his eyes, a new plan in his ever-scheming mind. "Maybe I'm the one to finally sunder Fate's wheel. If I am, maybe I do belong here after all."

"Don't think that hasn't crossed my mind." She fingered the Triforce brooch that she still wore on her armor. "If that's true, though, then you indirectly killed Link and doomed Hyrule to languish under Ganon's grip forever." She looked up at him, her cold blue eyes welling with tears, and he recognized something in them that he saw all too often in himself.

_She's grasping at straws,_ he thought. _Just like I'm desperately searching for a way we can be together, she's searching for a reason why we can't be…just like me, she's afraid._ And so, for the second time in an uncharacteristically short span, he took action, surging forth like a projectile, his lips meeting hers in a wild but mostly silent cacophony of emotion. The way she hungrily returned the kiss would have given him the satisfaction of knowing that his deduction was right, if he hadn't been too distracted to care.

* * *

D'aww. Love, found in Ganondorf's dungeons. Oh well, I have LOTS more clichés to reiterate before I'm done here! 


	4. Breach

A new chapter! This one's long, because if I broke it up the chapters would be too short individually.

Once again, pacing escapes me. My apologies. Hope it's not too painful to read!

* * *

The interrogation room was massive, clearly architecturally and aesthetically designed to be as imposing as humanly possible. Zelda did not immediately remember it, but scars on the wall showed her that Ganondorf had made some major renovations to the castle in seven years. She idly wondered who—or what—he had gotten to work as a construction crew for him. Stalfos, maybe?

This train of thought ended when the tall, dark, and decidedly not handsome man standing at the head of the room spoke. Ganondorf, the physical incarnation of evil, the Gerudo thief who was the fount of all Hyrule's pain and suffering, was being really quite childish. "I know you're hiding him somewhere. This man isn't Link. Where is he?"

Zelda sighed patiently, caught Hamlet's sympathetic glance off to her right, and explained, "This man isn't supposed to be Link. Link is dead, and you know that."

"Of course Link isn't dead!" With every outburst of Ganondorf's immature rage, Zelda could feel the air around her crackle with the same dark energy that was keeping the new couple bound six feet off the ground. She and Hamlet had tried to escape using a teleportation spell, Farore's Wind, but Ganondorf had intercepted them and forced the spell to send them here instead. Now, drained of magic, she had no way to fight back. She could almost feel the arcanely confining bonds tighten as Ganondorf poured out his rage. "Link is NEVER dead. He defeats me every time. He marries YOU every time. I know I killed him, and I know you're bringing him back! How?" He stalked right over to her and floated himself up into the air, his large nose inches from hers. "What's your plan, Princess? There's always a plan."

Hamlet jumped in before Zelda had a chance to act diplomatically. "You idiot! She doesn't have a plan! I broke the…"

That was all he had a chance to say before Ganondorf roared and reached out one claw-like hand toward him. With a single gesture, Hamlet was slammed into the ceiling, then the floor, then into a random flock of keese, bones crunching each time. When he was returned, bruised and bloody, to the midair spot where he he'd been originally, he was too unconscious to defy the Great King of Evil any more.

Nearly every part of Zelda's mind was screaming at her to DO SOMETHING to avenge the man who had confessed his love for her just hours before, but she knew better. _Action will only make you just as unconscious as your new lover,_ the tiny remnants of her diplomacy screamed at her, and grudgingly, her reason won out over blind rage in a completely invisible struggle that took less than a second.

"As he was saying," Zelda continued calmly but with an ounce of precisely balanced loathing in her voice, "He's not from this world. He came, and he broke the chains of causality that bind the three of us together. Link is gone for good, and if you'll let us go…"

Ganondorf cut her off with a lengthy peal of menacing laughter. "If I let you go, you'll just go and make another little army to annoy me with." He floated even closer, to the point where Zelda was seriously tempted to spit right in one of his hate-filled eyes. "Even though we both know that your little rebellion couldn't do any more damage to me than a bucket of like-like slime, you'll keep coming back. I know you, Princess. Now quit your little game and tell me. Where-is-Link?"

Ever since she had been grabbed by the hand and whisked away to this mausoleum, Zelda had been praying to Nayru for the wisdom that she was positive she would need in dealing with the situation. Only now, in a blinding flash of argumentative insight, did she realize that her patron goddess's blessing had come at last. She steeled up her demeanor, tried her level best to put some fire into her eyes, and let the divinely inspired words flow from her.

"What would I have to gain by telling you Link was dead when he clearly isn't? Obviously you wouldn't let your guard down; you're far too paranoid for that. Besides, if you knew every detail of our attack plan, you obviously know if I'm lying or not. So believe me when I repeat: Link. Is. Dead. Let us go now! We have nothing you want."

Ganondorf floated back down to the ground, his greenish-brown forehead wrinkled in deep thought. He paced for a few seconds, briefly looking less menacing than he was dimwitted. Quickly, though, Zelda saw a decision bloom on his face; he leaped up in the air and decisively shouted his judgment. "No! I still don't trust you, Princess. You're the trickiest one out of all of them. I'll NEVER believe you! You always know what I'm thinking! Go away!"

With a single flick of his wrist, Zelda and the unconscious Hamlet were tossed through the air and dragged back to their cell, with Ganondorf's cries of "Get out of my head! GET OUT!" following them the whole way.

Zelda took a second, after landing back in the room that was hers so long ago, to gather her wits and thank Nayru for at least keeping her alive. She was slowly beginning to realize that the red-headed thief could not be bargained with, and would not listen to any amount of logic. They would need to find another way out.

Hamlet soon came to. His clothing was completely tattered, and his face and body were bleeding from several places. However, he was conscious, and Zelda rushed over to take care of him as soon as she heard him groan.

He opened his eyes. One of them was bloodshot from one of the impacts, but they still focused well and Hamlet seemed alert. "Ow," he slurred.

Zelda put a finger to her lips. "Shhhh." She had firmly and irrevocably switched into her caretaker mindset, and very little could bring her out of it.

Hamlet ignored her and continued talking through his injuries. "I don't…I don't think anything's broken. I'm sorry for mouthing…" He paused to check his lip for blood. There was some, so he wiped it on his sleeve. "I'm sorry for mouthing off like that, but I just couldn't let him abuse you like he was. He didn't let us go, I take it?"

She nodded. "At least he didn't try to kill us."

"He didn't try to kill YOU," muttered Hamlet bitterly as he hauled himself up and propped himself up against a wall. "He sure gave it a good go-around with me."

She shook her head sadly. "I'm sorry. As soon as I get my hands on that bastard's neck, goddesses help me…."

"I had my fill of revenge before I died, and that's what got me killed. I'd be satisfied with just killing him because he's a bastard, not just because he's been a bastard to me."

"Are you sure you died?" she asked. "This isn't the afterlife, Hamlet, it's the land where I live. You have to be here for a reason. Maybe that reason is to take Link's place."

He scoffed. "Take his place? This legendary hero, reincarnated a bunch of times though your history? That's not me. I couldn't even kill my incestuous, treacherous uncle before he managed to catch on to what I was doing. I couldn't save the LAST woman I loved from drowning herself. I barely managed to kill that skeleton thing without dying. I'm useless. Completely and totally useless. If your Goddesses brought me here to be courageous, then they've doomed both of us."

She shook her head. "Sweet prince…whatever you were brought here for, you can do it. I know you can. If you can make it though the beating Ganondorf gave you with only a bloody lip and a little bit of self-loathing, you have more courage than you think."

He stared at her. "That sounds like something Horatio would say."

"Who?"

"My oldest friend back home. He was always my voice of reason, always the one who'd caution me not to climb the tall trees and not to poke at spiders. He was great at pep-talks."

Zelda noticed that talking about his home seemed to pierce through the dark clouds over his self-esteem, so she prodded a bit more. "How did the two of you meet?"

A rough, unfamiliar sound escaped his lips, and she realized that he was trying to laugh. "That's a funny story, really…"

Zelda, listening to Hamlet telling stories of his education in Wittenberg and watching them brighten his mood, scooted up next to him by the cold dungeon wall. Eventually, after he had run out of stories to tell and was merely enjoying her company, she laid her head on his shoulder and fell asleep, feeling safe even in the very bowels of uncomfortable unfamiliarity.

* * *

Hamlet opened his eyes and saw only blackness.

_Where am I? _thought Hamlet. _Is this another one of Ganondorf's tricks?_ He knew that the cell had enough chinks in the wall to let in the moonlight; and the moon never seemed to wane in Hyrule. Also, Zelda was no longer in here with him, and…

He realized with maddening certainty where, exactly, he was. He was in a coffin.

Sweeping his hands around confirmed it. He could barely move inside the confining pine box, and the lid, too heavy to lift, had earth seeping in around the edges, pouring onto his face and into his mouth. The dirt and sand seemed to work its way right into his nose and his eyes, choking him, blinding him. He scratched furiously at the lid of the coffin, scrabbling blindly at his last hope, the sound of his fingernails scraping on the unyielding wood drowning out his own screams and becoming the last sound he could ever hear…

Hamlet opened his eyes and saw something less than blackness. The ever present moon was indeed shining through the cracks in the wall, and Zelda was right here beside him, her head on his shoulder, looking as peaceful as anything.

He blinked away the lingering aftereffects of the nightmare and noticed that the scratching, scrabbling sound had not gone away. He looked to his right towards the outward facing wall, where the sound was coming from, and saw a huge armored spider. It seemed not to notice him, spinning merrily around in a little circle, stopping, and pirouetting around the other way. The diffuse moonlight glinted off its golden shell as it turned.

Since this wasn't the strangest thing he'd seen in his brief stay in Hyrule, Hamlet simply snuggled up with the princess and kept one wary eye on it. He had more things to worry about than one very shiny arachnid, and Zelda's embrace was entirely too comfortable to even consider breaking free from.

His mind blanked itself of thought in preparation to get back to resting, if not necessarily sleeping. His eyes were trained on the oddly hypnotizing spider, as it turned back…and forth…and back…and exploded.

Propelled by the blast, the golden armor plate impacted the wall a foot above his head before he had a chance to react. His gesture of throwing himself in front of the blast to shield Zelda, while gallant, was pointless. Like all good explosions, this one was done and over with before anyone had a chance to think about it. Only the effects could be seen.

And the effects were, as Hamlet and the newly awakened Zelda saw, surgical. The outside wall of the room was simply gone; in its place, there was a not-particularly-lovely view of the wasteland that had once been the castle courtyard.

"Wha…" Zelda rubbed the sleep from her eyes and stood, surveying the damage. Groggily, she asked "What was that? Was it Ganon trying to kill us?"

"No." He rubbed his chin, which actually had a little bit of a beard growing on it now. "This looks more like a…"

There was a muffled bang, a whoosh of air, and some scraping sounds coming form below. Then, a gravelly but clear voice shouted, "RESCUE PARTY COMING THROUGH!" The source of the disturbance, a young, bright-eyed Goron, poked his head above the rough bottom lip of the hole, and started hauling himself up into the cell. "Princess, Hamlet, we're here to get you out of here! Did you like the exploding skulltula trick?"

Princess Zelda immediately began to admonish the Goron for being so noisy about the whole affair, while Hamlet, not wanting to ignore his lover but blocking her out for the sake of curiosity, peered down the outer wall through the hole and silently examined the proceedings. Set up right against the base of the wall, the small troop of Gorons (some of whom he thought he had seen before, but he still had trouble telling the difference between them) had set up a semicircular perimeter of spiky metal traps to keep away Ganondorf's monstrous undead guards. Already the hand things and a few other beasts circled the wary Gorons, some of them leaping at the metallic hedge only to be driven back by the pain.

The machinery inside the makeshift fortifications was unlike anything Hamlet had seen before. There was piping everywhere, and something he recognized as a bellows, and a big spherical chamber with fiery light emanating from it, all connected to a big cylinder. Other than the fact that it appeared to be some kind of cannon, he had no idea what it all was for. He made a mental note to ask Horatio someday, if he managed to survive the next few minutes.

He felt stone tap his shoulder, and turned around to see the young Goron looking at him with that goofy expression they always wore. "Hamlet, sir, you're first down the ladder."

The ladder was an actual, rigid stone ladder, leaned up against the castle like it was part of the scenery. Hamlet didn't stop to think about how or why the rescue party had taken the trouble of lugging it all the way down here from Death Mountain; he just descended. The ladder wasn't as long as it had looked from the top, and the trip down was short.

There was one larger Goron, standing on a flat-topped rock, who seemed to be in charge. He beckoned Hamlet over right before the Dane was about to seek his attention.

"Seeing that my son is already explaining what's happening to the princess," the Goron leader began, "I might as well tell you. See, we've got the steam cannon set up, over there." He pointed to the mass of machinery and fire that many of the Gorons were working on and around. "We had it on a low setting when we sent little Golam up to your cell, but we're going to point it straight up, overstoked the boiler, and launch that lava ball straight into the air while the two of you escape down the hatch into the resistance tunnels."

Hamlet only understood what the Goron foreman had said in the abstract, but when he saw the lava ball he suddenly comprehended the plan. Somehow, the rock people had bound molten rock into a transparent sphere. It sat next to the loading hatch of the cannon, silently emitting light with a menacing roiling glow. The Goron machinists seemed not to notice its strange presence.

"So you're hoping that the lava will seal the tunnel and damage the…those things." Hamlet pointed to the thronging evil outside the barrier. "What are you and your men going to do? And, if you don't mind my asking, what's your name?"

"I'm Darga, brother of Darunia, leader of the Gorons. He sent me out here to save you because he knew nobody else could." He smiled a peculiar Goron half-smile of joking pride. "As to your other question, My crew and I are Gorons. Lava is like home to us."

"Boss!"

Darga looked somewhere behind Hamlet's left shoulder. Hamlet turned his head that direction and saw a young Goron holding a wrench. "Something's going on underground. The instruments are going crazy, and we all sense it."

Darga sniffed the air. "You're right. The earth is unhappy."

As if on cue, the ground rumbled. It was a light shake—Hamlet, while a student in Prussia, had felt much worse—but it sent the Goron work crew into a frenzy as they began locking the "steam cannon" to the unstable ground.

Zelda marched right through the middle of them, pushing her way through the sentient stone up to Hamlet. "What the hell was that?"

Darga spoke instead. "Just a tremor, Princess. We're drawing some energy for the Cannon straight from the ground; it would be a surprise if we didn't feel anything."

"No. Ganondorf has something to do with this. Look, his troops have left the perimeter."

Surely enough, the hands and other dead things had mostly vacated their disturbingly vigilant watch. Another short tremor, stronger than the first, and the few stragglers had left as well.

Darga thought for a few seconds. "We can't take the chance that you might be right." He stepped forward into the midst of the machiners. "All right! We need to get our guests out of here, double time!"

But it was too late. Before the Goron engineers could get back to the cannon, the ground heaved violently. Even the mighty castle creaked and groaned, as if the stones themselves wanted out of the situation. Gorons and humans alike were tossed around like playthings.

Hamlet landed on his side, but he had tucked his arm in when he had first felt the ground tremor. He got up, a little bruised but mostly unhurt, and saw part of the metal barrier was gone.

Along with the ground it had once been on. The ground in a ring around the castle had simply vanished, edges still crumbling down into the abyss. A red glow of magma shone from the unseen bottom. All it took was a single seismic glitch, and the castle now had its very own lava moat.

"What happened?" he asked, to nobody in particular, not expecting an answer despite the fact that he got one anyway.

"Ganondorf, of course." Zelda embraced him from behind, and he could feel her warm tears falling onto his shoulder. Her voice was still clear, and calm, and regal, despite being wracked with sobs. "He finally got to us. Seven years spent avoiding him. SEVEN YEARS. Wasted. All those people I led to their deaths, just to save my skin…they died in vain…"

Darga, in the finest Goron tradition of helpful rudeness, had been listening. "He doesn't have us yet, Princess. We can still escape. Look over here!"

Hamlet turned his head to see another cannonball, one he had not yet seen in the masses of Goron equipment around the area. It was large, as tall as if not taller than Hamlet, and it had a door. A sneaking suspicion as to its purpose made Hamlet realize that this would not be a comfortable trip.

Zelda seemed to understand, too, and on her face was the same look of grim determination that he had seen when she was leading her troops. _She has more mood swings than me,_ Hamlet realized. She let him go, strode over to the ball, opened the door, and climbed into the interior.

Hamlet followed her. The hollowed-out chamber in the sphere was literally filled with pillows and cushions, and had two rope harnesses, one on either side. Zelda was busy fitting herself into one, so Hamlet took the other. The rope was surprisingly soft and smooth, and he had no trouble strapping in.

Darga poked his head in the still-open door to the sphere. "This was supposed to be the last resort," he said, "but this is the kind of situation where last resorts are all we have left. My Gorons and I are going to bail out into the lava after we set the cannon to fire. It's probably going to explode right under you, so Din only knows where you'll end up." He smiled. "But I'm sure it'll be fine. Happy journey!"

With that, the door was closed.

* * *

Ooh, cliffhanger! However shall our heroes escape this one? (Yes, more cliché!)

Thanks for reading!

-Sir Gimp


	5. Pyrrhic Victory

Wheee, it's the last chapter already. There's also a REALLY short prologue. This chapter is longer to compensate!

And hey, there's a little bit too much plot in this one. Oh well. On with the story!

* * *

Darkness, then light. Consciousness came slowly.

Zelda reflexively tried to raise her arm to shield her eyes from the sunlight that monopolized her vision. It wouldn't move. It was pinned—no, tied—under her.

A shadow against the glare. Shaped like a man. The shadow kissed her gently but quickly on the forehead and cut her restraints, and she fell with a cushy thud to the pillowed interior of the badly wrecked cannonball.

"How are you feeling?" asked the suspiciously Hamlet-shaped shadow. "You've been out for hours, but it took me that long to get myself free from my own harness… Did you hit your head on something?"

Zelda shrugged. "I guess. I don't actually remember blasting off so it must have been during. What was it like? Where are we?"

"You're better off not knowing what that was like, trust me. As to where we are…"

He hooked his arms under hers and gently dragged her out of the capsule. She looked around as he propped her up against the scorched and damaged hull.

"Well, at least we're still in Hyrule," she said. "But if I had my choice, I probably wouldn't have landed on Death Mountain."

"I'm still not sure about the geography around here. This is where the Gerudo live, right?"

She chuckled a little. "Gorons. But you were close."

"Well, hopefully I'll have time to get to know the surroundings better. Can you walk? Do you know your way around here?"

She pulled herself up and steadied herself on Hamlet's shoulder. "I've been here once. We're right outside of the Goron City." She pointed at a nearby cavern entrance. "We should make sure the Goron crew got back safely. I know they're impervious to lava, but…"

Hamlet had picked up that semi-telepathic ability that lovers have to finish each other's sentences. "…but there are worse things than lava around there." He shuddered. "It's the least we can do for them, considering that they got us out of there safe and relatively sound." He offered his hand to her, half from affection and half from a need for physical stability. Zelda's legs still hurt like hell, and Hamlet was limping a bit, but she took his hand and they began to wind their way down the steep mountain path.

There were a few random creatures milling around, but the couple ignored them completely, and were ignored right back. The Goron city wasn't far, and the cavern in the wall of the path was well-marked enough that Zelda didn't need to lead Hamlet through.

The quiet was the first sign that something was wrong, and it was the only sign that Zelda needed. Gorons were cheerfully noisy people, and even a Goron doing nothing but walking around was about as subtle as…well, the usual sarcastic saying was "subtle as a Goron," so she couldn't think of an apt comparison. Nonetheless, Gorons were noticeable, and it was painfully obvious that there were none of them here.

Hamlet looked back at her. He hadn't had as much experience as she, but he still suspected. "It's not supposed to be this quiet, is it?"

"No, it really isn't." She saw no need to actually go in. Either the Gorons were all dead, or they were all away doing goddess knows what. Either way, there was not a lot they could do. Zelda, suddenly feeling very small and helpless, grabbed Hamlet's hand for a small feeling of familiarity.

They didn't start up the path right away. Hand in hand, they stared out off Death Mountain over the scarred and blighted land of Hyrule, each of them lost in their own thoughts. Zelda, for one, had the lowest self-esteem she had ever had in her life. She had failed as a princess, failed as a rebel, and part of her mind was insisting that she had failed as a lover, too.

Suddenly, though, something in her mind shut that all away. She didn't have time to mope, not with the horrible things that Ganondorf had apparently done over the past day. She only had time to survive, and keep Hamlet safe. She had to find the rest of the resistance movement, she had to find the Gorons, she had to set things right. The royal blood that pumped through her veins would not allow her to do any less for her people and her country.

Just after she resolved to go out there and make a stand again, there was a flash of light, concealing the sudden entrance of a large Sheikah woman about ten feet in front of her. Hamlet drew a small dagger out of his shoe and dropped into a reasonable facsimile of a battle stance, but Zelda recognized this woman immediately and gaped. "Impa!"

Impa allowed herself a small smile at seeing that the princess was okay. "Hello, little one."

That irritated her. Zelda had been called "little one" by Impa up until the day her nursemaid had disappeared, shortly after the Door of Time was opened and all hell came out of it. She had had to build up a militia all by herself, and command the respect of her troops without fail, all while going through the trials and tribulations of adolescence. Seven years it had been since she had been a "little one."

But now was not the time for berating Impa. Rather, it was the time to bombard her with every question imaginable. "What are you doing here? Where were you? Do you have any idea where the Gorons went?"

Impa answered quickly, counting off the responses on her fingers. "Helping. Somewhere other than Hyrule. I didn't know they were gone." The intimidating Sheikah turned her attention on Hamlet, who was still crouched with sword drawn and a very confused expression on his face. "Who might you be?"

He stood up a little sheepishly, letting the blade droop in his hand. "Um, Prince Hamlet of Hyrule. I'm Zelda's….err…"

Zelda took the opportunity to answer for him. "Royal advisor and _close_ personal friend." It felt good to finally be able to stand up to Impa. She knew that the guardian was just looking out for her well-being, but independence was still a good thing. "Hamlet, put the knife away. She's with us."

He did so, without complaint, and Zelda turned her attention back to Impa. "I take it you've already talked to the resistance movement."

Impa nodded, then frowned, the lines on her face belying how ancient she really was. "What's left of it, anyway. It's just Hylians now. All of the Gorons came back here, and all of the Zora went back at the urgent behest of their king. They said something about their god dying, and they all vanished without a trace. Furthermore, not one of them has reported back, and it's been well over a day. I was going to check on them next, but… something else came up. Something far more important."

"Ganondorf's been busy in the past couple of days, hasn't he?" interrupted Hamlet. "Killing gods, darkening the sky…" He trailed off, staring upwards and lost in thought.

Impa ignored him. "The hero's back. The Temple of Time is active again, and the Hero is back. The Pedestal of Time has the direct connection to the Sacred Realm again, and there's already a barely visible silhouette of Link in it."

Zelda knew she should be shocked, but somewhere in the back of her mind she knew she'd have to deal with this sooner or later. The Prophecies were too sacred to be put off by Link's death. Sure, she had accepted the fact that he was dead, but she knew with every part of her that Destiny was not mutable. "I should go meet him, tell him what he has to do, with the Sages and all. It's my duty, after all; I'm his Princess."

"That would not be prudent, Zelda. Think about it. He's suddenly seventeen, with all of the hormones that that entails. And you…" Impa looked her up and down thoroughly. "Who knows what he might do? Besides, I take it your…advisor…would rather Link keep his heroic mitts off of you."

"Yes, please," Hamlet and Zelda said in unison.

"So you have to use a disguise. The disguise." Impa looked at the princess significantly.

"What?" Zelda couldn't quite figure out what Impa meant.

"THE disguise. Sheikah magic."

Comprehension dawned on Zelda, and memories that she thought she had successfully repressed came flooding back. "No. That spell… I don't think it works any more. I mean, back when I wanted to go play with the other boys on the castle grounds, it served me well, but… Impa, I have curves now. And breasts." She ignored Hamlet's slightly perverted leer. "It's not going to be enough to cover it up, is it?"

Impa grinned slightly. Zelda could tell she was enjoying this a little too much. "You don't put enough faith in Sheikah magic. Besides, you invented that spell. It should be attuned to you anyway. Give it a try."

Zelda shoved away the conflicting feelings she always got whenever she became her other self and looked to Hamlet. "Darling…forgive me for this." She clasped her hands, closed her eyes, and muttered the arcane words of power to bring forth the transformation.

…and nothing happened. Then she remembered something. "Oh. I'm out of magic."

Impa wordlessly (but bemusedly) pulled out a small green bottle and handed it to Zelda. Zelda opened it, drank the contents, and handed it back. "Okay, now that I've ruined the dramatic moment, I'll just get this over with…" She simply said the magic words this time, without all the ceremony and mystery and with rolled eyes.

She felt something tug at her mind, pulling it in all directions at once and nowhere at all. She was surrounded by a sparkly white fog for a moment—a by-product of the spell that she knew very well.

Then she screamed as a jolt of pain wracked her entire body. THIS wasn't something she was used to. She could acutely feel her anatomy being wrenched around, toned, altered, tailored, molded like clay. The magic was not gentle at all, and Zel….Sheik was sure he was going to pass out by the time it stopped.

He was on his hands and knees on the ground, coughing. As the numb aftereffects of the torture subsided, he became aware of his surroundings again, Impa staring at him with interest, Hamlet gaping at him in utter and complete confusion.

Sheik stood up unsteadily, and began to console the befuddled prince. "Hamlet, it's still me. I'm still Zelda on the inside. Well, except for these feelings…that's new." He paused for a bit, poking at his abdomen. "But this is only temporary. I'll only be male for as long as I need to train Link without him getting all hormonal on me. And dear sweet Goddesses, Impa, you were right about the hormones." He shook his head, as if he was trying to clear it of something. He was suddenly having very lewd thoughts about his female alter ego, and that, along with the fact that he was now thinking of himself in male pronouns, was scaring him a little.

Hamlet laughed, the confusion falling away from his face. "No, I figured all that just from what you two were talking about before. What I want to know is why you changed clothes."

"Oh. Uh, I don't know." He absentmindedly tugged at the Sheikah garments covering him. "Anyway. Thank you, Impa. Hamlet, we need to go. I have enough magic left for a Farore's Wind. But… um…."

"Yeah, I know. Skin contact." Hamlet reached out and grabbed Sheik's hand in what Sheik noticed was a much more platonic way than he had earlier. Sheik, frankly, didn't blame him. He much preferred being female, and he knew that Hamlet DEFINITELY preferred women.

"Let's go, um…" Hamlet pursed his lips in consideration. "What do you call yourself now? Zeldin? Zeldo?"

"As unimaginative as my real name is," Sheik laughed, "it's not as bad as those, Call me Sheik." He raised his hand up and gathered the magical energy for the spell. "FARORE'S WIND!"

It was just as quick as before. The green column of light shot up and whisked the pair off to the Temple of Time. There was no interception this time; they simply found themselves at the front steps of the temple, bathed in a pallid glow from within. They walked in slowly, side-by-side, not knowing what might await them.

Sheik looked up as he entered the antechamber. The high ceiling caused every step to reverberate. He knew it was a holy place, instilled with the reverence of the Goddesses, but that didn't make it feel any less like a crypt.

He looked down to see that Hamlet was staring straight at him. "What are you talking about?" Hamlet asked quizzically. "I'm awake. And why did you sound like you were crying?"

Sheik blinked in confusion. "What? I didn't say anything."

"You just said, 'Please, please wake up!' …didn't you?" Hamlet looked at his hand. "And why am I transparent?"

He was, Sheik noticed with a start, transparent. Even through his torso Sheik could dimly make out the smooth stone walls of the Temple. "Hamlet! Are you okay?"

"I'm hallucinating and disappearing. I think it's safe to say that I'm not okay." Hamlet buried his translucent face in his translucent hand. "No, I know what's going on here," he said with a note of resigned sorrow in his voice, "I'm being called home. That wasn't your voice. It was Horatio's."

"No, dammit," Sheik swore desperately. "I can't lose you now. I can't! Not without a goodbye kiss…"

Hamlet smiled sadly. "I don't think I really have a choice. Maybe _he_ has something to do with it." He pointed in the direction of the brightly shining cylinder of energy surrounding the Pedestal of Time in the next room. "Or maybe it was that teleport spell you used. Or maybe it was… Oh, Zelda, I don't know. I just wish I could have left you when you were still female."

"I do too. A last kiss would have been nice, but…" Sheik paused to wipe the freely flowing tears out of his crimson eyes. "But I doubt you'd want that, not from Sheik."

"It's a moot point anyway, my love." Hamlet reached out, grabbed his gender-bent lover's hand, and grimaced as his fingers passed through it like smoke. "I'm not really here any more."

By this point, Sheik could barely see him. The time for final goodbyes had come, and he was sobbing too hard to say anything coherent. He felt like the only good thing that had happened to him in the past seven years was being ripped away from him, and at the worst possible moment. In between tears, he managed to speak what he hoped beyond hope were not the last words. "I love you…"

"I love you too, Zelda." Hamlet's words were faint, as if they came out of the bottom of a well. "No matter what happens, I will devote the rest of my life to getting back to you. I won't let this be the end…but if it is….fare….well…"

He was gone. The man that Zelda had fallen in love with, even for so brief a time, was gone before Sheik could properly say goodbye. And what goodbyes he could make were made as a man. They had been a couple for less than a half of a day, and yet there was a piece of Zelda's life missing.

And Sheik, tour guide to the Hero of Time, didn't even have the opportunity to dwell on it. He had to cobble together an appropriately cryptic speech for the homecoming hero, and he had to go find out what happened to the Zoras. No rest, no time to reflect.

Sheik wondered what Link would think of his tear-reddened eyes…

* * *

Darkness, just like before. There was no poison this time, only a broken heart. All things considered, Hamlet preferred the poison.

This time he knew where he would wake up. Lying on the ground, in front of the castle where he had lived his whole life and died. The place where every important event in his life happened…all but the most important.

His eyes snapped open, and he easily found the strength to sit up and speak to a shocked Horatio. "Hello, friend. It's been a while."

"What… but you… how…" Horatio's pale eyes were red from tears not so long dried. "You were dead! For five minutes!"

"There are more things in Heaven and Earth, Horatio… Oh, we've already had this discussion. You've already seen the dead walk, don't act so surprised."

Horatio nodded sagely. "So what happened? Why do you look so sad to be back in the land of the living? Are you a spirit now?"

So Hamlet told him the story—of his arrival, of training, of the attack, his imprisonment, and his return…but mostly he talked about Zelda. He talked not only to inform his friend but also to reinforce his own memories. Memories were all he had left of her, and he couldn't bear to lose them.

Horatio, ever the patient and trusting friend, did not dismiss the claims as a dream or question Hamlet's judgment at all. He simply said one thing after the story was over. "I know where you're going with this, and the answer is yes. Yes, I'll help you go back, if I get to come along. There's nothing left for either of us here, and everything at stake for you." He grinned a little, to cheer up both himself and his liege. "Maybe for me, too. Would you say they're more accepting of…my type there?"

Hamlet pulled himself to his feet, and dusted himself off. "I'd guess so. They seem very progressive there." He extended a hand to the kneeling Horatio. "Well, get up, my friend. We need to find someone who can take us away from this place. Do you know where we could find a wizard?"

* * *

And there's the end! Like I said, there's a prologue of storts coming. Also look out for my next longish Zelda fanfiction, Waves.

Please review! My ego craves it!


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